


Falling Blossoms

by chulle



Category: Naruto
Genre: Age Difference, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Forgiveness, HashiMada, M/M, Madara had a rough past, Madara's 40 years old, Madara's a teacher, Marriage Proposal, Repeting mistakes, Sakura (Cherry Blossoms), age gap, older uke
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:53:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26052988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chulle/pseuds/chulle
Summary: Madara Uchiha is a retired novelist who teaches at a local university.Hashirama Senju is one of his students, and despite the twenty years of difference between them, the eldest cannot help but become involved with him.That way, as the months pass by, Hashirama is able, like the resilience of a cherry tree, to pass through the winter that's Madara's heart.
Relationships: Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara
Comments: 13
Kudos: 49





	1. Can I crash into your life?

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you like this one ❀

Even after so long, it still seemed inconceivable that Hashirama was sitting in that room.

It had been four months since the classes started, and the brunette couldn't quite digest that his idol, the old novelist, Madara Uchiha, was his Literature teacher.

Taking his place in the fifth row on the left, he wrote down all the precious information that came out of the older man's mouth.

When he paused to wet his throat, the Senju turned his faceto the next window.

The trees outside on campus were still dry, the brownish color adorning the entire environment.

Hashirama could feel the wood getting ready to bloom its beautiful petals in a few months and present them with that beautiful pink spectacle.

The Senju had fallen in love with spring when he was twelve, when he read Madara's first book.

He wrote a romance between a powerful dragon who came to his protected village every century to claim his bride, a human who would renew his powers by exchanging touches and swears under a cherry tree.

Hashirama had found the lost book in a bookstore, the worn cover making it clear that it was used. It was like fate that he had enough money in hand, even if it meant he wasn't going to eat until he got home.

He couldn't care less.

He left the store as if he were carrying his own heart. When he got home, he hid in his room and devoured the book until dawn.

The next day he reread it calmly. And the following week too.

The years passed, he got to know some other Uchiha works, but that one remained his favorite.

Coming from a not very flexible family, it took a lot of determination to get permission to follow his wishes. Fortunately, his brother had intervened and helped him obtain the much-loved approval.

Not before, of course, giving a guarantee to parents.

He had spent two years learning the family business, as well as doing a small management degree.

His parents ran a hotel with a traditional elite restaurant. Many private events and dinners were held there, as they endeavored to bring everything closer to the imperial period.

Fortunately, now, at twenty-one, Hashirama had finally managed to enter the college he had so longed for.

He was studying textual production, in the vain hope that one day he could have his work at the same level as his idol, maybe even get to know him, who knows how to get tips, maybe exchange experiences.

He always liked to dream big, but he had never even considered Madara to be his teacher.

When he entered the room for the first time, he almost choked.

Madara was sitting writing on an agenda, his hair pulled back, his spectacles adorning his face caught his eye instantly. But nothing had been more striking than when he lifted his chin and looked into his eyes. Hashirama lost his breath.

His skin was pretty and looked smooth just by watching. He had almost no expression marks, other than his size, of course.

Madara was tall, strong, robust. A real man, Hashirama thought.

The dress shirt looked tight despite the fact that he showed no discomfort. Maybe it was the fabric itself that couldn't even bare to touch his skin.

Madara looked at him bluntly, indicating that he would get a good seat before the other students arrived.

So Hashirama chose that one.

Not that in college it was the same as the school where everything is demarcated, but people tend to follow a pattern. And that was how he got stuck in the big window, being able to observe the path of cherry trees on the campus on one side, and on the other to absorb everything that Madara could give him.

Someone dragged the chair beside him and his reverie stopped.

The professor was standing in the middle of the room again. He was speaking, and Hashirama concentrated to accompany him.

When he finally caught up, he realized that he was talking about figures of speech and their importance.

Hashirama did not want to be disrespectful, but his attention fled the matter and went back to the Uchiha's body.

He never expected him to look so young.

Never that he would give him forty-two years, and that detail about his beauty aroused a desire on the first day beyond just admiration.

Hashirama took weeks to work out what that strange feeling would be in his chest and skin.

He only realized when he dreamed of Madara and woke up stiff as a stone, needing to relieve himself by almost shouting the name of the Uchiha so strong from his orgasm.

Sighing over the daydreams, he realized that the class was over.

Gathering his things and putting them in his backpack, Hashirama walked slowly towards the door.

When the last student stepped in front of him, the Senju turned back, one of his hands resting on the frame, his eyelashes flapping in anticipation as he sought Madara's gaze.

He found his without much ado. The Uchiha's face went completely red, and Hashirama smiled at him with false innocence.

Leaving without saying anything, the student went on his way, passing the cafeteria first.

He hardly spoke to anyone in his class, besides that Tobirama only studied in the morning, and that was the afternoon shift. So it was not uncommon to see him alone there.

Buying a strawberry milkshake, Hashirama looked at his watch and saw that he had two hours before he needed to be home. The next day would be busy, as it would help with an event, and because of that he would like to enjoy his stay near Madara as much as possible.

Walking through the main courtyard to the library, Hashirama was lost in memories.

When it became clear that he wanted Madara sexually, the brunette ran after him to find out if he was already married, and to his surprise, no. Very single, rumored to have never been seen with a woman.

Hashirama then started to approach his teacher.

A small professional friendship arose there, and the Senju took the opportunity to start flirting with the eldest.

When Hashirama noticed that his advances leave him with red cheeks, he was unable to stop. Madara had subtly rejected him several times, but the brunette always found a way to lower his barriers.

Opening the library door, he was happy to notice that it was not too full. Only a dozen people here and there.

Placing his things on a table further away, Hashirama opened a book and flipped through it, trying to concentrate on reading.

Uselessly, of course.

Drumming his fingers on the table, all he could feel was the indescribable anxiety he always had. The big clock on the wall above the librarian's desk seemed to scream as the seconds ticked by.

Suddenly the door opened and his teacher went through it as if he owned the world. His hair, now loose, swayed as he walked. Today's glasses were the ones with the dark red rim, and Hashirama loved that one.

The clothes were the same, tailoring pants and a blouse with sleeves rolled up.

Madara never changed his style much, and since it wasn't winter yet, he didn't need to cover his body completely. Although Hashirama would love to see him with meters of fabric hugging until the feet.

Lifting the book at face level, the Senju hid himself precariously.

Madara went to the last corridor. Hashirama could see him from there, running his finger over some volumes, clearly looking for a specific one.

The brunette saw the professor take a book, and when he looked for the second, Hashirama got up.

Looking closely at everyone involved in the room, he smiled when he saw that many had left, leaving only three people there, distracted.

Standing up in silence, Hashirama went to the first row of books, at the beginning of the library. Through the small space between the ends of the shelves and the carpeted wall, the Senju sneaked around like a cat: quiet, absorbed in its prey.

Madara was reading a back cover attentively when the brunette finally reached him.

He projected one arm to the Uchiha's waist, squeezing it tightly.

When Madara turned, looking for his attacker, Hashirama stepped forward, ready to steal a kiss from him, but the older man was efficient in putting the book he was holding on the way.

Hashirama was not affected by this, migrating his daring lips to his clear neck.

The touch was like a summer breeze.

Madara shivered completely, dropping the books on the floor, the dull thud of the carpet knocking him out of his daze.

“Hashirama, please stop...” Madara said as he turned around and walked away.

The Senju gave a low, masculine laugh.

Then his hand went straight to the dark locks.

In a simple but efficient tug, he brought the body of his teacher twenty years older to him and bent it over the nearest piece of furniture: an abandoned but blessed desk.

As it was used for trivial things, it was always empty, in short only papers and material for the lost and found.

Thus, Hashirama now had Madara bent over him, the breastplate glued to the wood, as the tightness in his hair intensified and the Senju was able to catch a glimpse of all the beautiful Uchiha's ass in those dark cloth pants.

Biting his lip, Hashirama couldn't help it: he moved his hips right into that soft flesh. He rubbed his erection violently, puckling long, real sighs from Madara.

Carefully dropping the hair, he put them aside, exposing his clear neck again, placing a tender kiss there.

“You know how I love when you pretend you don't like it.”

Hashirama licked his exposed skin, going to his ear, where he nibbled on his lobe as the pressure between his hip and Madara's ass intensified.

The Uchiha's little grunts leaving him with the hard balls; almost ready to come undone right there. So he walked away, even if it caused him physical pain.

Holding the older man by the waist, he kept him in place when he saw him wanting to move.

When he stopped fighting, Hashirama stroked his arms. He went down smoothly down his back, feeling the muscles under his dress shirt.

Reaching his hips, he grabbed his buttocks at once, causing Madara a funny startle. He than softly surrendered, placing his arms on the desk top and dropping the weight there.

Hashirama almost fell ill when he saw him give up.

Biting his lip to contain himself, he stroked that hot ass impetuously. His fingers ran gracefully all over his body, seeming not to decide where to park, until at last one of his hands found his hard dick.

Hashirama was supposed to stop, but he couldn't.

Risking a peek at the rest of the room through the small spaces in the books, he thanked God for being empty; not even the receptionist was there.

Feeling like the luckiest man in the world, he started to open Madara's fly, exposing the wet penis in a few seconds.

Bringing his cock closer to Madara's ass again, he also brought his hot, daring lips back to his stiff neck.

Madara only sighed as the brunette trailed small nibbles on his fair skin, and the light movement he made against the dripping phallus.

However, Madara curled his hips as if he wanted more contact and that was enough for Hashirama's calm and respect to go to waste.

Sticking his teeth in the curve of the Uchiha's neck, Hashirama intensified his grip, violently masturbating him, his movements up and down strangling the penis that did not stop drooling.

Rubbing himself against that soft pair of buttckecks, all Hashirama could think about was being inside Madara.

He wanted to feel his warmth, to feel his grip. But he wasn't ready yet, and so, just by letting him touch him like this, Hashirama was conscious that all that was already good enough.

But Hashirama was also obstinate, and if he had managed to exchange that kind of caress, he would also be able to carry it to the end. He would make Madara fall in love with him, because all he wanted was a relationship with his eldest.

Going back to the present, Madara was beginning to drop disconnected syllables in a higher pitch than allowed. So Hashirama reluctantly dropped his waist and put his hand over the older man's mouth, silencing him.

His other arm, meanwhile, worked avidly back and forth, his stiff stance and his wiggling against his hip showing him that he was almost there.

Hashirama then released the meat from the neck, smiling when he saw his teeth marked there, as in a small souvenir.

Then Senju let out a breath against the nearest ear, knowing that it made him shiver all over, and then whispered:

“You can come, professor”

The adjective came out in a dragging way, totally desecrating his sense, and for that reason, Madara immediately dissolved, his joy spurting against his palm, bringing a deep and erotic satisfaction.

Hashirama loved the way the older man played as a good boy, and he loved even more knowing some of his weaknesses, like that.

Damn, he didn't wait to unveil all sides of Madara, to have him under his hand, allowing him to see all his facets and perform all his fetishes.

A few minutes passed before Madara started to breathe normally, and when he did, Hashirama walked away.

The older man turned to him, quickly closing his own pants. When the Uchiha saw the dirty brunette's hand, he opened his eyes wide and blushed, looking for one of his handkerchiefs in his pocket and not finding it because he had left them in his room.

It wasn't even necessary as Hashirama raised his palm to his mouth and stuck out his tongue, licking all the remnants of the Uchiha's orgasm, which became even more red.

“My God, Hashirama, don't do this!”

He smiled wickedly, approaching Madara, giving him one last sniff on the neck, absorbing his scent. When trying to kiss him again, Madara dodged his face perfectly, changing the subject immediately.

“Really, Hashirama... You’re my student, we can’t continue like this...”

The Senju said nothing. He just placed another subtle kiss on the neck, smiling when he saw that his bite would stay there for many days.

“Good night, Professor.”

Hashirama turned away, looking at his watch and realizing that he would need to run. Packing his things and leaving the library, he headed for the train station.

Happy that Madara's aroma and taste were ingrained in his mind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like it! ♥

Madara Uchiha had a normal and peaceful life. He woke up every morning at five-forty in the morning, prepared his coffee, showered, changed his clothes, fetched his bag and left. He had an equally regular car, one that was neither big nor drank much fuel.

He’d go to college, giving his first class at seven fifty. He had a lunch break at noon and resumed for more classes until five o'clock in the afternoon twice a week, the other three days he stayed until seven at night.

Then he would take the same car and return home, where he washed his clothes, showered, heated something in the microwave and sat on the couch, ready to fix jobs or just zap on television without actually watching anything.

Usually in this stage his three cats - an orange, a black and a tabby would already be in his lap, purring and giving him all the warmth and affection he could wish for.

And that was why he didn't take the storm called Hashirama Senju very well, which simply fell on his life, thrusting him straight into the eye of the hurricane, shaking his whole routine and all his feelings.

For four months, getting up at five forty in the morning had been accompanied by mild anxiety and nervousness. That parking his normal, tedious car in the same normal, tedious spot wasn't so mundane anymore.

Four months after entering the classroom after lunch left him on the verge of vomiting, since the only heat he wanted to feel was that of Hashirama's body and not those of his animals and his imported blanket.

This was completely and irrevocably wrong, however Madara could no longer breathe anything other than the youngest. And he hated himself for it. For eighteen years he hadn't even kissed anyone else, who’d say let someone touch him the way he had been touched.

He remembered very vividly to have had his heart so massacred that he thought he would never be able to walk alone again, because of the amount of pain that he physically felt throughout his body.

Faced with shame, embarrassment and humiliation, Madara Uchiha vowed never to get involved with anyone else. He never looked for, he never even missed human contact.

When his dream had to be interrupted at the height of it because of his sexuality, Madara vowed never to make the same mistake again. He would never trust anyone again.

So he moved away, moving to a city ten hours away from his past. He left writing behind. He took his diploma and lived up to it. He started teaching thanks to the help of a dear friend, and of course, his name, who fortunately managed to remain intact in the middle of the fire that was the small scandal.

A lot of money had bought that silence, and he was grateful for that. The reason for his greatest pain having so much power - social and acquisitive, gave him that opportunity. That kind of noisebeing much worse for his ex than for himself. Madara just shut up and left.

And again, for all this; for everything he left behind; for all the oaths he had taken with himself as he thought whether or not to cut his wrists and leave literally everything behind, that Hashirama's presence was like a summer rain.

It arrived without warning: there was no dark cloud, no gust of wind. It just happened.

When those dark, shining eyes met his and he smiled at him as if Madara were the sun itself, the older man felt a warmth pass behind his heart, as if in a nervous breath of someone who wants to keep the fire burning.

Today, specifically, it was just another Day. He would have classes until later, which he appreciated since the college used to be more empty, so he could walk without drawing much attention to the parking lot.

Looking at his watch, he saw that there was still half the time before the test he was applying to finish. Hashirama had his head down, intent. His long straight hair tied in a plaited braid leaving him with an even more masculine and well-marked face.

Picking up his water bottle, he opened it and took a few sips, concentrating on taking his eyes off the brunette, or he was going to start looking weird. When the first student handed him the finished test, he dismissed it and was happy to be able to take care of correcting it.

When it was almost over, more started to arrive. The second, the third... When the eighth arrived he finally looked up, only to find Hashirama in front of him holding out the paper.

He picked it up, placing it on the pile next to it, dismissing it with the same gesture he used for all the other students. Without much noise on the outside, Madara continued his task, now much calmer since the reason for his distraction was off the radar.

And just like every other day of every other year, the clock ticked, bringing the night and therefore its last class.

Madara haven't seen the boy since the end of the exams and he was too relieved. HE still didn't know how to deal with all those emotions and so he preferred to avoid them.  
Although it was very difficult when he cornered him like that.  
  
Starting to organize all the documents and evidence he would have to correct over the weekend, Madara didn't even notice when his mind brought him back to the first touch exchanged with the youngest.

He had surprised him in the empty hall. Putting him against the wall as Madara poured out a list of books for the other to know.

The eldest had never been so scared in his life. The soft touch of the lips added to the tenderness of the touch on his cheek was enough to bring him to tears.

Madara ran like a teenager, and thought Hashirama was going to walk away, but he just intensified everything, and now he touched his private parts directly, which flooded him with that mixture of pleasure, disgust and shame.

He felt victimized by a mermaid, enchanted by that dark voice, that beautiful face and that warmth that emanated with such force that it seemed to guide him in the dark, like a vital force meeting the other.

That feeling of life that was the source of the strangeness. It seemed incomprehensible that Madara had spent weeks talking so naturally to a student before the touching start.

Madara couldn't understand why with him after all. And he didn't even want to think about it too much, since when Hashirama kissed him the sky turned blue, the flowers smelled better and his day seemed happier.

Caressing his throat as if it would undo the knot that formed in it, Madara went out the door. He just wanted to go home and rest. That week and the next would be busy since it was the end of the semester and the tests were in full swing.

But before going to the car he decided to stop by the nearest bathroom to wash his face, he also needed a good cup of tea. The nearest toilet was at the end of the corridor and it wasn't long before Uchiha was leaning on the counter with drops of cold water dripping from his chin.

The temperature contrast gave him the wave of sobriety he needed to end that day.

Stretching his hand towards the paper roll, he pulled some leaves, bringing them to his face and closing his eyes as he dried.

When he opened his eyes, the door also opened, and whoever passed through it was none other than Hashirama.

"Good nevening" the older man said.

“What are you doing here yet? It's so late.”

“My brother is taking a test and asked me to wait.”

Since that was enough of an answer, Madara remained silent, throwing the paper away and adjusting the bag on his shoulder. He was on his back, ready to take the first steps towards the door when Hashirama took him by the elbow.

Madara didn't have time to say anything, since the youngest pushed him against the wall, his mouth on his, with his bold tongue imposing himself as usual.  
Sighing and losing that war that didn't even have an announcement, the Uchiha just softened in Hashirama's arms, allowing him to embrace and take him as he pleased.

The Senju kissed him with imposition and gentleness, as if Madara was a precious thing in his hands, but not enough to withstand a rough grip.

Feeling the air drain from his lungs, Madara began to push on the shoulders of the brunette who understood and walked away, resting his head on Hashirama’s shoulders, breathing hard.

The teacher could feel the gusts of hot wind on his skin and in his ear, making him shiver unwelcome.

“How long has it been?” Hashirama whispered, intensifying the chills.

Madara was unable to come up with anything but a lazy "what?".

“That I can't touch you.”  
  
The brunette kissed his warm neck, dragging his lips upwards, sliding his jaw and going to his ear.

“I’ve missed you so much...”

The Uchiha was ready to hit when Hashirama's daring hands grabbed his face, bringing him closer and enveloping him in another of those sublime kisses.

The tenderness with which Hashirama touched his body broke him inside. He could feel his armor cracking and the splinters hitting the ground; the noise being absurdly loud in that vacuum that was his feelings.

The younger man's warm tongue hugged his, while one of Hashirama's hands went inside his hair, squeezing it with the right level of strength; only a slight imposition, but enough to cause an erection.

When the other one went down to the torso, caressing one of the nipples over the cotton fabric, Madara had to cut the kiss to imprecate.

“Hashirama... Please... Stop it.”

Before his pleading, the brunette actually stopped.

His hands stopped touching him and he moved away a few inches. The space between the bodies now making Madara feel cold, as if he had missed something important.  
However, Hashirama was an obstinate boy.

Madara had his chin being gently held by the youngest's long fingers. He looked at him without a hint of malice. His face was pure, unmoved. There was truth there and only it.

“Tell you don't want it again. Look me in the eye and say you don't like it.” he inquired, his voice thick and the power of his posture making the Uchiha breathe harder. “Say it, and I'll never try anything with you again.”

A few moments later, Madara opened and closed heis mouth several times. His eyes ran across the room, ran across the face of the youngest.  
In the end, Madara did nothing but stutter.

Hashirama moved his hand over his torso again, stopping again on top of the nipple, circling with the tip of the index finger, forcing sighs.  
Madara put his arms around Hashirama's shoulder again, leaning on him, and in a way, summoning him for a hug.

The youngest kissed him again, but he had a certain nervousness on his part, after all, he pushed him to the end of the wall, cornering him with his body. The possessed tongue making its way, the lips as eager as, biting the skin on his neck... The hands squeezing him tightly, kneading the fabric, pulling everything he could find.

When Hashirama seemed to compose himself and walk away, Madara was leaning against the tiles, his hair messy, his shirt half open, his face red and his breathing uneven.

Offering a malevolent smile, Hashirama reached up to the older man's erection, stroking hard, his hand covering it whole, in a perfect grip.

When Madara moaned his name, Hashirama's smile widened.

“At least that's honest.”

Suddenly Madara felt himself being pulled, and indeed he was. The youngest was pushing him towards one of the private cubicles.

His back was against another surface again, his arm slammed against the paper holder, forcing him to support him on top of the metallic circle, which in fact greatly improved his balance.

Laughing lightly, he focused again on the fact that Hashirama was now kneeling, his fingers opening his belt and then his fly. With every inch of fabric lowered from his underwear, more parts of his sex appeared, until it simply jumped out, inevitably stiff and ready for action.

Hashirama didn't even hesitate. Picking it up with both hands, he licked his lips and plunged against that erection as if it were his favorite meal.

Madara gasped as the wet and hot sensation came over him. How long Haas he not felt that?! His breathing was sore, his orgasm so close, that made him feel like an imbecile.

Risking a look down was the worst and best decision of his life. He would never forget the sight of Hashirama kneeling, taking his cock to the back of his throat, and his messy braids now falling over his shoulder.

Closing his eyes and focusing on the warm, slippery pleasure that was his mouth, Madara allowed himself to receive that touch.

The raven could never deny it as he asked. He couldn't really raise his hand and ask him to stop for real. No. Madara was a hypocrite. Secretly yearning for every touch, for every stolen kiss, without the courage to do the same or even admit it.

Hashirama was his hell, his judgment and his redemption.

He had no strength to fight and he didn't want to. But he was also unable to return everything Hashirama was giving to him. He was broken inside, and there was the problem of his age and his being his student - Madara couldn't remember those two when he started to touch him.

Hashirama was now pressing against the glans, swirling there with his tongue, as one of his hands slowly rose and fell in a silent torture that was making Madara want to scream.  
It was then that male voices became present, at the same time that the door opened.

Madara was unable to say where it came from, but he instantly took the backpack that was still attached to his forearm and placed it in front of the crack in the door, preventing them from seeing that someone was kneeling there and someone else standing.

Whoever came in was silent for a few seconds when it noticed that someone was using the toilets, but soon after they started talking again.

Hashirama had stopped sucking him when he noticed the interruption, so Madara thought it was time to close the fly and leave as soon as the others were gone.

But when he threatened to put the cock in his underwear again, Hashirama gave him a cold, cruel look. Irritated, he pushed the older man's hand, took the erection in both hands once more and pushed it to the bottom.

Madara covered his mouth with one hand, his eyes wide and nervous scanning everything, unable to move or denouncing what was happening.  
Hashirama was getting faster and faster. Hands up and down imitating his mouth. The thick saliva was spread over the entire length of his flesh, making the movements so smooth that it hurt his balls.

It was then that Hashirama began to lick his head only, sucking hard a few times, then calm down and start licking again. Once or twice leaving a kiss, then returning to the pressure...

This happened more times than the Uchiha would like and consequently his orgasm was so close that he could feel himself dripping against Hashirama's hot tongue.  
For the happiness of both, the door closed and the silence reigned.

But to Madara's misfortune, Hashirama did not stop.

The brunette stuck out his tongue, keeping his head rubbing against it as his movements increased and increased and increased.

Madara couldn't help it. The crash that came from behind his bones was so loud that his hips jutted forward and Hashirama took it with glory, receiving cock and his orgasm into his mouth as if it were a trophy.

Biting his lip to keep from making too loud sounds, Madara could feel the moment he cut his mouth, the metallic taste of blood taking his taste buds, but he didn't care.

He just kept traveling on the waves of that overwhelming joy.

And Hashirama swallowed it all, making a point of receiving it and cleaning it with his mouth, enjoying every second of that new level of intimacy that he had taken from the older man.

With a help he didn't notice coming, Madara found himself sitting on the top of the toilet, his underwear already on.

He was still a little groggy from the intensity of the pleasure, but he was able to feel it clearly when Hashirama approached, placing a soft seal over his injured lips.

“Put an ointment on it when you get home, or it will get swollen.”

“Mhmm...” Madara grunted, feeling her strength start to return.

“Look, I need to go. My brother’s waiting for me. You'll be fine?”

The eldest then opened his eyes and the brunette's face was so close to his that made him want to kiss him... But he never would. He would never, under any circumstances, take the lead and deceive the boy's feelings.

“I’m fine, go ahead.”

“Really?”

“Go away, Senju!”

The brunette laughed and left.

The sound of the door closing was the cold shower Madara needed.

Composing himself, he got up, adjusting his shirt and pants. He took the bag and put it on his shoulder again. When leaving the cubicle, he had his hair loose. He stopped in front of the mirror and arranged the strings with his hands, securing them with the usual elastic band.

He turned on the tap and washed his face. Leaving the bathroom without even looking back, Madara walked across the campus, across the tree-lined courtyard, spotted Hashirama and his brother in the cafeteria, they were laughing and talking as if nothing in the world was going to hurt them.

Deviating from that path, the Uchiha took the longest route to the parking lot. He put his things in the back seat, and went to the driver's seat.

  
Turning the keys and listening to the roar of the engine, Madara engaged the first gear, stepped on the clutch and accelerated, leaving the university and finding the highway in a few minutes.

He kept going home, wondering all the time what the hell he was doing with his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love or hate, let me know what you think about it!

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you liked it! ❀


End file.
